Chapter 3
Previous Chapter In Dan's veins runs the blood of heroes, but he didn't know it. If he had, would things have turned out differently? Probably not. That's just the way he is. Dan worked at a grocery store. He was friendly and diligent when dealing with customers, but he was a little gloomy when he was off the clock. He had just finished his shift and was being dropped off by a coworker when he got a call. It was one of his dorm mates, a guy named Jim, who sounded uncharacteristically panicky. "Dan, there's been a shooting. I was supposed to pick up my kid sister at the library, but I just got here and I- She-" Jim's voice choked up for a moment, "She's a hostage, man! I don't- What should- Dan, help!" Dan immediately covered his phone and said, "I need you to take me to the library. Now. My friend's in trouble." His coworker went wide-eyed and started sputtering and asking what happened, but he drove. Dan tried to calm Jim down and ask for more details, but even when the man wasn't hyperventilating, he didn't have a lot of information. The only things he knew were that people had died in a shooting, police had cordoned off the area, and the criminals currently had a multitude of hostages. For anyone else, this would have been far too little to act on. For most, the only option would be to wait and rely on law enforcement. When the car encountered a massive traffic jam caused by the blockade, Dan sped out on foot, skirting the cordon to find any weak spots. He thought he found one, and even managed to snatch an unattended police radio as he was about to pass through, but was easily spotted under the bright sun. He quickly abandoned the idea, although he kept the radio hidden under his sweater. Next, he made his way towards a currently unused building. The building's advantages were two-fold. It had no occupants, and therefore no witnesses. It would also serve as a decent vantage spot, and that was all Dan could hope for at this point. A locked door impeded his progress. To Dan, this was but a minor inconvenience. Dan held his hand in front of his face and focused. A thin, bent metal twig materialized, which he promptly slotted into the keyhole and started carefully shifting around. The lock clicked open in under ten seconds and the lockpick, having done its job, twisted into thin air. The reason Jim specifically called Dan wasn't because they lived in the same dorm, or that they were high school friends. Dan had superpowers. Jim found out years ago, but tactfully stayed silent about it until now. There were ways to break the lock too, but Dan was confident in his picking abilities, having practiced with a variety of locks. As he reentered the baking heat, he suddenly felt uneasy. If someone spotted him here, he would look incredibly suspicious whether they be cops or criminals. Noise came from Dan's sweater, making him jump. He plugged in the earpiece and listened. "This is Kraken 4. I think 2's right; there are seven hostiles. Way too many civilians to count. Please advise." "Hold position. More marksmen en route." Dan heard enough. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, forcing the hammering of his heart down as much as sheer willpower would allow. Binoculars appeared in his hands. The time for hesitation was long past, and second-guessing himself now would do no good. With the binoculars and his sharp eyes, Dan quickly spotted two figures a good distance away, wearing tactical vests and half-hidden in shadows. One of them moving to a better post, but both of them were looking away from him, being closer to the library than he was. Rather than waste time looking for the rest, he guessed that that the remaining police snipers were peering out of windows or on the other side of the library. Dan dropped his binoculars and focused on creating the biggest object his power was capable of. Steel components phased into existence and clacked together, clasped firmly in Dan's hands as he dropped to a knee. A chrome barrel extended and gently touched down atop a sturdy bipod, with a powerful lens forming above the object and a narrow box inserting itself below. A "ka-chunk" sounded as the box sent one of 20 long bullets into the chamber. Dan looked down the scope of his newly-loaded rifle. The library was a two-story building made of a steel frame and giant glass windows. From Dan's position, only the second story was visible, but it was at an angle to him, allowing him to see through a good amount of the building. Considering it was a weekday afternoon, there were surprisingly few hostages. "Kraken 6, in position," came over the radio. "Kraken 5, in position," followed almost instantly. A long, drawn-out silence passed. "This is Kraken 1. Command, do we have a 7?" "Negative, Kraken 1." "...Say again, Command. We have confirmed seven hostiles." "I'm sorry, but you'll have to make do. There is no-" "Kraken 7, in position." Another long pause. "Who the dickens is THAT?" Dan smiled and said, "Don't worry about me, gents. Just know that you have another rifle on them, and I have a clear shot at most of the second floor." "I don't know who you think you are, but you better get off this line right-" "This is 1. Krakens, I'm assigning your marks; do NOT fire until I give the order. 7, there's a bald man with a handgun on the second story, red-and-blue sweatshirt. Can you make the shot?" "Yes, sir," Dan answered, shifting his scope to center on his mark's back. "Kraken 1, this is Command. What exactly do you think you're doing?" "I'm taking a gamble. And I'm praying with all I got." Command fell silent. None of the other Krakens objected. The criminals looked nervous, but they weren't moving around too much, making it fairly easy to keep a lock on them. As promised, Dan waited for 1's command, but slowly grew restless while doing so. What were these guys really guilty of? True, they had hostages, but why would they go so far? What did they really want? Was he really willing to kill in cold blood without knowing all the facts? And where the heck was Jim's sister? These questions and more plagued Dan's mind, but he didn't dare look away from his target. Finally, the command came: "Fire at will." Dan's eardrums rang and the bald man crumpled within a heartbeat of the word "will." Audible cracks followed one after another, and Dan saw armed gunmen look around in bewilderment before dropping. Soon, all seven shots were accounted for. "This is 5, I missed the shot! He took cover and- ...he came back out with his hands up." Dan laughed to himself. The sound of his rifle probably gave away his position, but he wanted to savor the moment before fleeing. It was a resounding success. But then, when the surrendering gunman accidentally knocked over a chair, something caught Dan's eye. Dan pressed a number and held his phone up to his ear, making sure the radio was on "receive" and not "transmit," his other hand keeping the rifle steady. It only rang once before Jim picked up, but Dan cut him off before he could say anything. "She's dead, Jim," he said in a hard, flat voice. "What? You can't be serious, check again." "Short blond hair, tied into pigtails. Yellow shirt, jeans, pink sneakers, and she's wearing a blue backpack with a rainbow across it." "No. No, no, no no no-" "I don't know who killed her, but there's only one gunman still alive. Just say the word. I'll end him." An excruciating silence, longer and more nerve-wracking than any moment Dan had ever experienced. But despite the danger of getting caught and the roaring sound of his own pulse, Dan's hands were steady and his eyes were unblinking. "Do it." Dan knew how this would end. The cops saw him try to breach the cordon, so they would ask around. They would find Jim, or perhaps his coworker, which would lead back just as easily. Jim would confess, unable to handle the guilt of ordering someone's death, even if it might have been his sister's killer. And assuming that the law didn't get him, assuming that he could survive after abandoning his old life and everyone he ever knew, he was sure someone else would. Dan knew this because he felt the prickly sensation of being watched. He caught a glimpse of a hooded black coat before it vanished. He ignored it and looked back through the scope. The gunman had reached the stairs, and police officers were waiting below to arrest him. If Dan was a hero, the right course of action would be to let the man be arrested and tried for his actions. If Dan was a hero, he would only fight when it was necessary and kill as a last resort. A malicious grin spread from ear to ear as Dan's finger tightened around the trigger. Next Chapter